


‘tis the damn season

by spacetimeinspector



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Songfic, Unhappy Ending, all i’ve been doing is listening to evermore help, heavy use of the word ache, sorry in advance, theyre soulmates i know they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetimeinspector/pseuds/spacetimeinspector
Summary: In the brightest, most perfect timeline, Troy stepped off the boat for the last time and landed right in Abed’s arms, the way he pictured it so perfectly for all of those years at sea. Troy supposed that Abed was wrong that night at their house warming party - they were never really in the good timeline after all.a trobed fic inspired by ‘tis the damn season and dorothea on evermore
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	‘tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> hii this is my first ever song inspired fic, I tried to incorporate the lyrics/meanings of the lyrics into the text instead of like putting the lyrics between paragraphs, I hope it flows nicely !! 
> 
> this is also my first ever attempt at a fragmented-type fic instead of set linear scenes. I love fics in that type of style but never thought I could do it myself so tell me if u think I pulled it off !!

In the brightest, most perfect timeline, Troy stepped off the boat for the last time and landed right in Abed’s arms, the way he pictured it so perfectly for all of those years at sea. They’d go off to LA together and have everything - the money, the fame, and each other by their sides - their own little perfect ending. Troy supposed that Abed was wrong that night at their house warming party - they were never really in the good timeline after all, because Troy had a big mansion on the edge of Colorado and Abed was off living his dream in LA, and they were alone. They didn’t have each other, not anymore. 

Troy still refused to roll dice. 

It was Shirley’s idea at first. Since Troy was finally back she wanted to have a reunion party - which was really a Christmas party, but she denied the coincidence the whole week. It was year three of Troy being back and another invitation sat in his emails, the sight of it filling him with an excitement that he thought had burned out long ago, and a dread that he didn’t want to uncover. 

The first year, Abed didn’t come. He’d just gotten his first directing job for a big budget film, it was his big break out of the indie scene and nobody had the heart to tell him to give it up for just one weekend with old friends. So they didn’t. 

The second year, Abed’s career had soared, and it was all anyone could talk about. He’d arrived in the study room - where they held the party for old time’s sake - and Troy almost couldn’t breathe. 

They’d shared niceties and anecdotes about the good days, but it was hollow in a way that Troy couldn’t place, and when they talked about their current lives Abed had so many stories and adventures to share. It made Troy feel cold - distant. He didn’t tell Abed that his life was so amazing now, that he had so much money and so many celebrity friends that he could barely keep up - the story that he told the others. Because friends don’t lie. 

Then, before he knew it, Abed was flying back to LA and Troy found himself on his mansion doorstep, feeling as alone as he felt while trapped on the boat. He supposed if the longing in him burned brighter some nights, he could always see Abed in flashing lights, on a red carpet, on a tiny screen that he dared not touch for fear of the longing burning right through him. 

For their third year, he didn’t want to uncover the dread. He rehearsed his stories for the study group, he packed a bag to stay at his dad’s house, and he told himself it would all be okay. 

—

The party buzzed in Troy’s ears as he sat with Abed on the study room couch. They had all finished catching each other up on their current lives, and Troy and Abed were just sitting there, continuing the polite conversation as the world around them evaporated. 

“-So the movie is more about Kevin’s growth rather than the sci-fi aspect of it all, but I think I can convince them to tweak the script a little, to my advantage.”

“I bet you could. I loved the movie you did about the writer who couldn’t find the inspiration for a second film and it tanked his career. Maybe you could use that as a threat, or something.” 

Troy laughed. 

Abed smiled. 

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

Troy could almost physically feel the way that Abed was holding his tongue, he was leaving words unspoken instead of saying what was on his mind the way he always did. The way he always used to. 

Abed never had to hide himself around Troy. The study group was convinced that Abed said everything that came to his mind, but Troy knew that there was more going on in Abed’s brain than anyone could ever know. He let a lot more of it out when it was just him and Troy together, and Troy loved it. He loved being the person that Abed trusted, the person that knew Abed better than anyone in the world, the person that Abed didn’t have to mask himself from. 

Now, Troy could almost physically feel the way Abed was holding his tongue, and suddenly he was just another person. He wasn’t anyone special, he was someone Abed hid himself from, and the pain of that revelation made Troy grip his beer a little tighter, force his smile a little stiffer. The ache in each of their chests almost palpable. 

Troy wanted to make a joke, to bring up an anecdote, to try and bring back any sense of normalcy to their relationship. He stared at the condensation forming at the neck of his beer bottle and a quip about no-no juice died in his throat as he realised he was holding his tongue, too. It didn’t feel right to go back to the old days, to fall into the rhythm they always had. The moment had passed. The ache grew. 

—

Troy and Abed had never gotten _together,_ together, the way everyone had always assumed they would. Sometimes moments of hope would flutter up in Troy’s chest, and though it was a feeling he relished in, he’d never dare unpack it. He knew Abed could feel it too. 

When everyone graduated Greendale and had a year of their lives to themselves to grow up, it gave Troy and Abed an opportunity to feel things outside of the view of everyone else. There were so many words unspoken, so many longing looks and hidden smiles, and Troy kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It felt inevitable, so slightly out of reach but still almost close enough to touch. He lived every day in hope. 

They shared Troy’s bed, their lingering touches held more meaning than ever before. It was a development, but it wasn’t. 

The first time they called each other _babe,_ Annie thought it meant something. So she never mentioned it, and waited for them to tell her in their own time, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it was just another way to develop their relationship on a path to nowhere, the way that the sound of the word made Troy’s heart clench with adoration and fear. 

They re-enrolled, Pierce died, the other shoe never dropped. Troy made a promise and left on a boat, he convinced himself it was his destiny, and that everything would be okay. Troy supposed the shoes had never fit them in the first place. 

—

Everyone was slightly tipsy, on alcohol and pure friendship, and as they laughed at one of Jeff’s quips, Troy found himself on the couch with Abed again. But the air around them had completely changed. Troy moved in closer to let Annie have a seat, and as Troy’s knee comfortably knocked against Abed’s, with Abed’s squeaking laugh ringing in his ears, something bubbled up in Troy’s chest that felt distinctly like joy. The same joy that made a home in his heart all those years ago, as he got to know Abed, as he got to know himself. 

Then, Abed’s hand was in his and he was pulling him away from the circle, still giggling, and Troy’s joy was settling in and everything was perfect. 

Abed was shoving cold drinks into Troy’s arms as he fished around in the cooler, a steady comfortable silence falling over them both. Abed’s mind must’ve been elsewhere, and he fumbled with his armful of bottles, picking one out of the pile and handing it to Troy. 

“Hey, babe, can you carry this one, too?”

The pet name brought a familiar warmth throughout Troy’s entire being, and everything felt so _right._ But when he looked up to see Abed’s shocked face and heard him stutter out an apology, a cold piercing feeling threatened to rise up just as quickly. 

Troy smiled at Abed reassuredly as his face dropped in worry, “It’s okay,” Troy decided to be brave, “Babe.”

Abed’s stuttering stopped, and he smiled. Something almost pathetic in Troy hoped that the name brought Abed that familiar warmth as well. 

—

It had gotten late, the Dean warned the group that the cleaners would be coming in soon, and Troy never wanted to leave the bubble of happiness that the group had created. Troy’s thigh was firmly placed against Abed’s, and it was okay. 

Troy listened to the rushed end of a story as his mind focused on the man next to him, his best friend - his warmth and liveliness buzzing around them so beautifully, something that Troy had ached to experience again for so long. The hopeful part of him wanted to move his pinky ever so slightly so it would touch Abed’s - a secret way of inviting something, anything more - but he forced himself to stop short and zoned back into the conversation again, reminding himself that they weren’t kids in college anymore. They were almost thirty, they had different lives and different paths and Troy was hoping, childishly, for a spark the way that it happened in movies. 

He tried to ignore the fact that he’d still think the same way even when he turned 50, when he turned 70, when there was almost nothing of him left. There was no age too late for Troy to want Abed by his side. 

Still, he had to remember that things were different now. 

He ignored the ache in his chest and the ache in his now clenched, deliberately stilled hand in favour of saying his goodbyes. They’d see each other tomorrow, anyway. 

—

It was just easier to stay at his dad's house when he visited Greendale. He tried to buy his parents bigger, newer houses, somewhere in a nice neighbourhood where people power-walk for fun. But his dad refused. He liked their area in Greendale, he liked his small house with its creaks and it’s cracks and it’s memories. He loved his wife and his wife loved him. They had each other, they had their love, they didn’t need the extravagance. 

Troy wished he could say the same. 

Troy wished, almost viscerally, that he could know what happened in the timelines where he didn’t sail on the boat. The timelines where he didn’t leave Abed. The timelines where they never grew apart. The timelines where the other shoe dropped and everything was perfect and they were okay. The timelines with the rest of their lives ahead of them, side by side, with their creaks and their cracks and their memories. 

Every perfect timeline led to him and Abed, he knew it. He could feel it in his bones, in his thrumming organs, in the tears that he taught himself to hold back, in the way he just ached for everything to go back to the way it was before he left. 

—

It was sunny outside, and Troy almost reached for Abed’s hand by instinct, the way he always used to before. 

Before. 

—

Troy knew the weekend wouldn’t last forever. The familiarity, the joy, it was all only temporary. He had to be reminded of the cruel reality when people started asking about everyone’s plans to leave. 

Troy loved that his friends had so much going on, he loved that they were doing the things that they wanted and enjoying their lives. But it hurt to see everyone just getting on with their lives, because Troy didn’t know how to do that anymore. It felt like his life had ended already, there was nothing to look forward to when you owned everything you ever needed for the rest of your life. 

Greendale was his life. Then his whole life was the boat, and after the boat he could be whatever he wanted to be, anything he ever dreamed. But he wanted the study group, he wanted the comfort and the familiarity and the knowing. He wanted Abed, still. 

—

Abed was staying at a hotel a few blocks away from Greendale, Troy knew he drove past it to get to his dad's house. He tried not to think about it for too long. 

He so desperately wanted Abed to invite him over, to let him in his bed and hold him like he did the night before the boat came. With their fists tightened around balled up fabric, the hushed whispers of _it’ll be okay,_ and _I’ll come back for you,_ the quickened breaths before the tears, and the familiar sound of a heartbeat that Troy hadn’t realised he could miss so deeply yet. 

He knew that that shitty hotel mattress would be the warmest bed he’d ever know. 

He nodded along with the conversation, like everyone else, and moved on. 

—

There weren’t many opportunities for Abed to sleep in while he was working, so he took his chance to soak up as much sleep as he could, for old times sake. The study group agreed that they’d try and meet up in the study room one last time before everyone parted ways again. Abed checked his watch and knew he would’ve missed almost everyone but the Dean, but a promise was a promise. 

It was fine, he wouldn’t ever ask any of them to wait for him, and no one would ask him to stay in Colorado any longer. Though he didn’t know why. 

When Abed arrived at the study room, it wasn’t as empty as he thought it would be, because Troy was sitting on the couch - still waiting. Something almost pathetic in Abed hoped that he was waiting there just so he could say goodbye to him, but he forced himself to push the thought out of his head before approaching the couch. 

“Troy?”

He startled. “Abed! Hey, man. I didn’t know if you were gonna come,”

“Sorry about that. I slept in.”

A smile almost graced his lips out of forced habit. 

“Y’know, I’ve really loved catching up this year.”

“Me too, we should catch up more.” 

Abed wanted to think he saw hope in Troy's eyes, but he convinced himself it was just what he wanted to see, or a trick of the fluorescent lights. Definitely one of those two. 

Abed knew Troy’s face so well, he'd spent most of their time at Greendale just memorizing its lines and movements and reactions. Abed knew Troy was holding something back, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to coax the truth out of him anymore, because everything was different now. Abed knew his cue to leave like the back of his hand. 

Abed nodded, a finality, and for some reason he felt like his hands were in the wrong places. For some reason he didn’t know how to move his lips around the word _goodbye,_ but he knew he had to say it. He had to say it to everyone, eventually. 

It wasn’t as if they’d never see each other again. There’d always be another Christmas party, and maybe there'd be a screening for one of Abed’s films and he would be allowed to invite the study group. Maybe he and Troy would sit next to each other in the dark and reach for the popcorn at the same time, and all the puzzle pieces would fall back into place the way they were meant to, like a movie. But Abed needed to say goodbye, because he never knew which Christmas would be their last, and he couldn’t survive on the hope for a next time. 

Then Troy stopped holding back, ever so slightly. 

“Abed, I just want you to know… If you ever get tired of being known for… who you know, y’know,” he visibly swallowed, “You’ll always know me.”

There was a special ache in Abed’s chest that was reserved for Troy and Troy only. He’d remember that feeling anywhere, even after all these years apart. It kept building over the weekend, like Troy was oxygen to Abed’s fire, the heat filling his soul like it was where it belonged. The ache felt faintly like home. 

What Abed used to call home. 

Abed coughed, masking the strangled noise in his throat. He tried to prepare his most convincing smile, one he’d practiced after Troy had left so people would stop asking if he was okay, but his face mangled into a grimace and all he could do was go back to the comfortable neutral and hope Troy didn’t notice. But Abed knew that Troy always noticed. He was the only one who ever did. 

“Thank you- you too.” Then the fateful words, “Goodbye, Troy.”

There was no grand orchestra or rainstorm or swelling emotions for their send off, the way Abed always liked it to be in his movies. They were just standing in the study room under a cheap flickering light, and Abed told himself the flash of hurt on Troy’s face wasn’t really there, or maybe it wasn’t even hurt at all. Definitely one of those two. 

“Goodbye, Abed.”

The only heart Abed was breaking was his own, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you thought !!! aren’t we so glad troy and abed are married and making movies together rn instead of living what happened in this fic <3


End file.
